


Dating Blind

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art by Nerdeeart, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nerdeeart is the best!, Nori is a Little Shit, Oblivious Bilbo, Protective Thorin, Sneaky Thorin, Thorin Feels, WaiterAU, blind dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Bilbo isn't having a great deal of luck lately ... not in the dating department anyway.  The only good things have been that new restaurant and the handsome waiter ... he's so nice!But Dwalin may have figured out exactly WHY Bilbo has been having such a bad time of it ...SUPER HUGE THANKS TO NERDEEART FOR ALL THE FABULOUS ARTWORK THROUGHOUT THIS FIC!!





	1. The Four Dates of the Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdeeart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nerdeeart), [aquileaofthelonelymountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/gifts), [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts), [whyisitclever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyisitclever/gifts).



* * *

 

 

            Bilbo Baggins was tired.  Granted, it was Monday morning and naturally, he’d love nothing more than to stay in bed late and wake up when he felt like it, rather than to a clock alarm. But his tiredness had nothing to do with sleep, mind you; he didn’t have any issue with his bed, bedtime or getting up in the morning. And it wasn’t the kind of tired that came from worry, or stress either. There were no family dramas, no friends-in-need, no sudden monetary burdens.

            No, his' was a soul damping tired.

            You see, Bilbo was tired of playing ‘The Game’. You know the one; the game of courting. Dating. Coupling. Wooing. Etc. Etc. Etc.

            Then again, if one were to push the issue, it really came down to _whom_ Bilbo had to play the game with that made him tired. All those self-centered, egotistical, cock-sure guys that schmoozed, oozed, and lied in their attempts to get into Bilbo’s pants! The guys that said they wanted to find ‘Mister Right’, but in reality were only looking for ‘Mister _Right-Now_.’

            His friends told him he was making excuses.  That he was hiding.  That what he needed, he needed to look for.  That what he wanted was outside, not in.  

            _Whatever._

            As he dragged his carcass through the office, he headed straight for his cubicle. The only thing at that moment on Bilbo’s mind was a cup of tea, maybe some porridge and his noise-blocking headphones.   He dumped his satchel on the floor by his chair, turned on his computer and then made a beeline for the office break room.

            As he poured the hot water from the kettle into his mug, he breathed in the heady, heavenly aroma of his steeping tea and released a sigh.

            _Normality. Thank bloody God._

            “Hey, hey, hey!”

            Bilbo turned around at the sound of his co-worker and friend, Nori Rison, coming into the break room in his usual, boisterous manner. “Good morning.”

            “So?” Nori popped change in the machine and pressed the button for his routine, morning Mountain Dew.

            “So ... what?”

            “Friday night!” Nori demanded, opening the can to take a swig. “How did it go with Dirk?”

            “Jerk is closer to the truth.”

            Nori almost choked on his soda. “What happen?!”

            Bilbo pulled out the tea bag from his mug and tossed it in the bin. “What _didn’t_ happen?!”

            “I don’t understand.” Nori truly looked perplexed.

            Bilbo sighed and turned to face his friend. “He complained about everything! The soup, the wine, the desert ... all of which, by the way, was totally delicious.”

            “Well ... maybe his food—”

            “We had the exact same things!” Bilbo said shaking his head. “And to top it all off ... was he discreet about it? Mannerly? Even simply ... mature? No. He shouted and cursed and ... just ... caused a huge scene! So humiliating.”

            Nori looked even more confused. “But ... to be charged for bad food—”

            “He wasn’t charged! The waiter comped him for his meal!   Then he had the nerve to insist that they comp mine as well ... again, loudly ... but there was nothing wrong with my meal, it was perfectly lovely, and I ended up paying for mine out embarrassment!”

            Nori and Bilbo lapsed into silence several long seconds, each drinking their morning ‘fuel’ and lost in thought.

            “I just don’t get it,” Nori said. “I’ve known Dirk Jeffries for years!”

            “I feel for you,” Bilbo quipped.

            “I know he can be a bit ... self-assured.”

            “He’s an arrogant prat.”

            “Well ... I’m sorry.”

            Bilbo rolled his neck; he felt better already. “Don’t be. I mean, it’s not your fault.”

            “I set you two up.”

            “Granted. But, you can’t control other people and frankly ... you never dated him.”

            “No. Slept with him, but never dated him.”

            It was Bilbo’s turn to choke. “Thanks for that! You never said he was a castoff fuck-buddy!”

            “Oh no! We’re good friends!” Nori insisted, downing the last of his soda, tossing the can and getting a fresh one from the machine. “Now, anyway.”

            Bilbo laughed. Nori was wonderfully, casually hedonistic; one couldn’t be mad at him. “Still ... Friday night was _not_ your fault.”

            They both headed out of the break room. Time to get to work.

            “On the bright side,” Nori said, turning jovial once more, “you liked the food.”

            “Oh, yes! The food was great!” The meal was the one bright spot of the evening, in Bilbo's opinion. “I’d definitely go back.”

            “Then I’ll just have to set you up with another date there!” Nori said as they started to walk in opposite directions.

            Bilbo groaned. “Please, don’t!” Nori laughed.

            One would think that would be the end of it. The problem was, Nori never, ever, _ever_ listened to anyone!

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            One week later, Bilbo was experiencing Deja vu. Bilbo sighed to himself and thought, _Like that movie Groundhog’s Day, but far less amusing._ It was Monday, he was tired and he was standing in the office break room, making himself a mug of tea, when Nori sauntered in.

            “Yo, B!”

            “Yo, yourself.” Bilbo stifled a yawn.

            “How was Friday?”

            Bilbo turned and leveled a pointed look at Nori. “I thought Dirk the Jerk was bad, but Nigel Tanner ...”

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” Nori looked shocked.

            “I’ll hand it to the guy,” Bilbo chucked his tea bag into the bin. “He seemed nice enough and at least had good manners.”

            “That sounds like Nigel.” Nori got out two cans of soda, one Mountain Dew, and a Pepsi.

            “A little cocky.”

            Nori laughed. “That sounds like Nigel too!”

            “But, nothing I couldn’t write off as someone trying to impress another.”

            “Right. Just trying to make a good first impression.”

            Bilbo nodded slowly, taking a tentative sip of his tea, before adding, “However ...”

            “Oh, God.”

            “He ordered every expensive thing off the menu.”

            “He has decent taste.”

            “The tastiest appetizer, the most luscious entree, the perfect wine ... a full bottle mind you ... a gorgeous desert ...”

            “And that’s all bad, how?”

            Bilbo took a sip of tea before saying, dryly, “His credit card got declined.”

            “What?!”

            “And not just one card. But, all ... of ... them.”

            “Oh, my God.”

            “And the worst part? He’d encouraged _me_ to pick out the most expensive things too. _‘Go ahead! Life is for living! Let’s enjoy it!’_ So, I did! But, in the end, I ended up paying the entire cheque! One-hundred-and-thirty-two pounds!”

            “Holy Shit!”

            “Needless to say, his ... bon vivant ... facade faded quickly in my eyes.”

            “Oh, man.”

            Bilbo huffed out a sigh. “I was so infuriated! The waiter was nice about it. Very apologetic.” Bilbo sighed. “In fact, the only good thing, other than the food, was the waiter.”

            Nori cracked open one of his cans of soda and drank half in one gulp. “Well ... there’re plenty of fish in the sea.”

            Bilbo took another sip and shook his head. “Not for me.”

            “Don’t say that!”

            “I’m reeling in my net and heading back to port.”

            “Oh, come on, Bilbo!”           

            Bilbo shook his head again and headed for his cubicle. “I’m done for now.”

            Nori quickly followed Bilbo out. “You gotta stay in the game!”

            “I’m done with games.”

            “Men are like money.”

            “Easily spent?”

            “I meant, like ... the more you invest, the more you make! So, when it comes to guys, you have to go through a lot of them to make it big!”

            “My bank account of ‘caring’ is closed.”

            “Oh, don’t be a miser!”

            “I’m no longer willing to put up with a ‘poor return’ for my investment. My time is worth more than that.”

            “Come on, Bil! You can’t stay in every night!”

            “You want to bet?”

            “You can’t live your life as a hermit.”

            They’d arrived at Bilbo’s cubicle, so Bilbo was done. “Look, I appreciate the effort, but honestly, I just don’t want to date right now.” He sat down and typed in his login. Hoping Nori would get the idea and go to work.

            But Nori stood there for a second before playing his trump card. “You’re scared.”

            Bilbo would deny that he gasped. But he was not happy. “ _I am not_!”

            “Bollocks.”

            Bilbo huffed out a sigh. “Fear plays no part of my—”

            “Chicken.”

            “I’m not!”

            “Wuss.”

            “Stop it!”

            “Pussy.”

            “ALL RIGHT!”

            Every cubicle within 10 metres went silent. But in no time, as Bilbo turned ten shades of red and Nori stood there smirking, the hum of the office started up again.

            “So this means you’ll continue to try?” Nori asked sweetly.

            “Fine.” Bilbo was resigned.

            “I’ll pick a more suitable candidate for your next date,” Nori said, as he walked away.

            “I hate you so hard right now.”

            Bilbo couldn’t believe he’d been manipulated but there it was. He was not afraid! At least, not that he would admit out loud.

 

\-----ooooo-----

           

            “So ...” Bofur Eredul sat back and took a healthy gulp of his morning coffee; there would be no work from him if he didn’t have his coffee. “I hear you’ve been setting our dear boy up with suitors.”

            Nori laughed at that. “I don’t know about suitors, but I’ve been doing my best to get him out of that flat of his.”

            “How’s it been going so far?”

            “The first two, sadly, ended up being tossers.”

            “Oh dear.”

            “Bilbo was none too happy.”

            “I bet.”

            “But I think I hit the mark with this last one.”

            “Oh? Why do you say that?”

            Nori gave Bofur a smug smile. “Because it’s eight-forty-seven and when was the last time Bilbo Baggins arrived at work after eight-thirty.” He cracked open his Mountain Dew and took a drink, leaning back in his chair.

            Bofur snickered. “You think Bilbo spent the weekend in bed and now he’s running late?”

            Nori shrugged. “Maybe his bus was late. Maybe he forgot something that he had to go back for. Maybe he has the flu and called in. Or maybe ... just maybe ... he spent the weekend with his knees up to his chest and his ankles around some guys neck.”

            Bofur almost fell out of his chair laughing.

            The break room door opened and Bilbo walked in. “Gentlemen.”

            “Morning, Bilbo!” Bofur said with a toothy grin.

            “How are you feeling this morning, Bil?” Nori asked, waiting for his ‘thank you.’

            Bilbo turned on the kettle, got his mug out of the cabinet and popped a tea bag in it, then turned to face the other two. “Bofur,” Bilbo said gently. “Do you know any serial killers?”

            “Ex ... excuse me?” Bofur was so confused.

            “I don’t mean personally, of course,” Bilbo clarified.

            “What do mean?”

            “What’s going on?” Nori was confused as well.

            Bilbo took a few steps closer to the table. “I mean ... do you know how to get a hold of one?”

            “Wha ... why in the hell do you want a serial killer?”

            “I’d just like to give him Nori’s phone number,” Bilbo said casually, then spitting out, “AND HIS ADDRESS!”

            Nori was shocked. “What’d I do?!”

            Bilbo closed the distance grabbing a hold of the arms of Nori’s chair and trapping him in his seat, Bilbo got right up in Nori’s face. “YOU SET ME UP WITH A MARRIED MAN, YOU IDIOT!”

            All color drained from Nori’s face and Bilbo growled out a huff, turned on his heel and returned to making his morning tea.

            “Jesus,” Bofur said. He didn’t state it but he was glad he wasn’t Nori at that moment.

            “Bilbo, I swear,” Nori yammered out. “I had no idea, no clue that Guy was married!”

            Bilbo didn’t turn to look at Nori. “He was near perfect; affable, charming, witty, we have things in common. Those should have been warning signs. I should have known! Any man that good, who also happens to be a friend of yours, has got to have something hidden in his closet!” Bilbo gave Nori a heated glare. “Who would have guessed it’d be a wife and two children!”

            “The guy had kids?!” Bofur nearly choked on his coffee. He was _really_ glad he wasn’t Nori.

            “Bilbo,” Nori pleaded. “I swear ... I’ll make it up to you. I know this other guy—”

            “NO!” Bilbo snapped. “No more! You’re done! I’M DONE!”

            Bilbo stalked off, not even bothering to finish making his tea.

            “Shit.”

            Bofur wasn’t one for saying I told you so or taking the piss out of someone when they were down. But this situation? “So much for hitting the mark.”

            “What am I going to do?” Nori asked, looking for all the world as a man who’d run out of options.

            “If nothing else,” Bofur said, standing up. “I’d stay out of Bilbo’s sight for the remainder of the day ... if not the week.”

            Nori nodded. It was good advice.

            Bofur was smart enough to take his own advice and avoid Bilbo all day. Most of the office did as well. Bilbo was one of those people who just didn’t hide his emotional state well. Oh, he could be cool and collected if need be, but if he was really happy, everyone knew it. And, if he was really angry, everyone knew it. So the fact that Bilbo was considering Nori’s homicide, everyone knew it; and avoided him.

            However, by four in the afternoon, Bofur felt he was safe. He poured himself his third cup of coffee - his end of the day cup – and casually strolled by Bilbo. “How you feeling?” he asked, gently leaning over the wall of Bilbo’s cubicle.

            Bilbo drew a breath and sighed. “I’m all right.” He turned and looked at Bofur, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

            Bofur shook his head. “Don’t be.”

            “I shouldn’t have lost my temper in front of you like that.”

            “Truly, Bilbo, don’t think on it.” Bofur took a sip of coffee. “Besides, I feel in this case, you were justified in being mad.”

            Bilbo blushed at that but did smile. “Maybe, but ... that doesn’t mean it’s okay to act immature or ... make you uncomfortable.”

            Bofur nodded. “Well ... you needn't ask for any forgiveness.”

            “Thanks, Bo.”

            Bofur took another sip of coffee, before saying, gently. “I do know this guy ...”

            “Oh, no,” Bilbo groaned. “Not you too?!”

            “Just ... listen,” Bofur gently, hold up a palm to stop Bilbo. “He isn’t some guy I met at the pub last week—”

            “Unlike Nori.”

            “—I’ve known him for years.”

            “Still, I’m not sure—”

            “He’s a steady guy.”

            “Bofur, honestly I don’t—”

            “He’s not high maintenance.”

            “Well ... that’s a plus ... I guess.”

            “No wife.”

            “Thank God.”

            “Just an average bloke. Driver for the tube.”

            “Steady employment.”

            “Kind of a homebody.”

            “I can relate to that.”

            “I’d have brought him up sooner, but I had no idea you were looking.”

            “I’m not ... looking. Per se. It’s just that I’m not, _not_ looking. You know?”

            Bofur got it. “Bob says the same thing; if he meets someone, great, if not, he isn’t going cry over it.”

            Bilbo sat quietly, clearly thinking it over.

            “Look ...” Bofur stepped in and took a pen and a scrap of paper. He wrote out Bob’s full name, Bob Preston, and his phone number. “If and when you feel like it, you call him.” Bofur handed the scrap to Bilbo.

            “Just like that?” Bilbo asked, glancing down at the number for a second before looking doubtful at Bofur. “Without you talking to him first?”

            Bofur shrugged. “Bob’s not the kind of guy to fuss over something like that; just mention you know me and go from there. But ... if it does make you feel better ...”

            “What?”         

            “Well ... I’ve mentioned you on a few occasions already and he was interested. But again, I didn’t know you were looking so I dropped it.”

            Bilbo glanced back down at the scrap, lost in thought.

            “You think about it, Bilbo.” Bofur made to leave.

            But Bilbo stopped him. “And you’ve known him for a bit?”

            Bofur nodded. “Nice guy. Nothing fancy. He’s not complicated. But he’s honest and kind. Funny, in his way, but not a wise arse.”

            “Sounds like a good guy,” Bilbo said, almost to himself.

            “Like you,” Bofur said, giving Bilbo a wink.

            Bofur wasn’t sure if Bilbo would call and, frankly, that would be okay. Bilbo was great and, although Bofur lived by the rule that no one automatically deserved anything, he was positive that Bilbo didn’t deserve to be alone his whole life. He deserved a good guy. Again, just like his friend Bob.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “I’m given to understand you’ve been dating,” Ori said as he munched his last few chips.

            Ori and Bilbo had been best friends for a few years now; one of the only ‘relationships’ Nori had been able to foster for Bilbo!   They shared much in common; a love of art, maps, language, and movies, similar likes and dislikes, from food and drink, and even having similar views on politics and social issues. But despite how much Ori’s older brother, Dori, and Bilbo’s closest cousins, Prim and Drogo, thought that Ori and Bilbo would be _‘ just perfect’_ as a romantic couple, there was one other thing that Ori and Bilbo shared; their taste in men. And it wasn’t each other.

            Bilbo sighed. “Nori tried.”

            Ori smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

            “And he’d be great as a matchmaker.”

            “You think?”

            “For convicted criminals.”

            Ori busted out laughing. “I won’t even argue that point.”

            Bilbo shook his head. “But, I can’t be mad at him.”

            “It’s hard. He means well.”

            “He just gets it wrong.” Bilbo took a sip of beer and chucked the last of his fish in his mouth.   “The problem with Nori is that what he sees is what he thinks is.”

            Ori nodded. “He doesn’t look past the surface.”

            “If the guy is hot, then he must be okay.”           

            “That’s gotten him in more trouble than I can even count.”

            “I’m sure.”

            They both ate up the last of their lunch. While they certainly did get together during the week, it was a set date, their ‘thing’, to meet every Saturday for lunch. Sometimes they try some new restaurant, the funkier the better, or they’d be in the mood for something exotic, but usually, it was their old standby of fish and chips.

            Ori had been away in America for the last six weeks, on assignment for The London Times. Ori covered world news and right now was in the middle of a series of articles on how the new politic climate was changing things across the states.

            “I bet you’re glad to be home?” Bilbo asked as he motioned to the waiter to bring them a couple more drinks.

            Ori rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you about next week, not now.”

            “That bad?”

            “Not bad, per se, but ... here’s to the stability of the English.” Ori held up his bottle in salute and downed the last of it. “And it has been nice to get back home, to Dwalin.”

            Bilbo couldn’t help but smile. “One of the few times, Nori’s matchmaking succeeded.”

            Ori laughed. “Why do you say that?”

            “I have to hand it to you,” Bilbo said as the waiter came over with their drinks. “I don’t know if I could date someone that dated my older brother!”

            “Well, they didn’t date,” Ori insisted.

            “Didn’t they?” Bilbo was sure he got that right.

            “They were just friends.”

            “Friends with benefits.”

            Ori shrugged. “That was years ago. They were at university and ... hell, I was only ten then!”

            Bilbo laughed. “God, when you put it that way, it sounds even creepier.”

            Ori waved Bilbo off, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s not like I dated him when I _was_ ten!   I mean, I didn’t even know him then!”          

            Nori and Dwalin had been casual friends and ‘playmates’ as Nori put it, in their early twenties. But the years went by and they moved in different directions. Namely, Dwalin moved into law enforcement and Nori ... well, Nori was Nori. Enough said. 

            One night, about six months ago, Ori, Bilbo, and Nori had been out at a pub and ran into Dwalin, who was with his cousin Groin and their friend Bofur. They all became quite the merry group and in the end, Bilbo ended up in a drinking contest with Groin, and Nori and Bofur hit it off like they'd been besties since birth. It was Nori that put Bofur in line for a job where Nori and Bilbo worked, Rivendell publishing.  Ori and Dwalin on the other hand? Well, it was clear there was an attraction from the moment they met; they’d been near inseparable since.

            “But it doesn’t bother you that Dwalin and Nori ... you know ...” Bilbo gave Ori a pointed look even as he partook of his beer.

            Ori laughed. “Don’t be so uptight! I mean, I’ve dated other men ... Dwalin even knows one of them ... so, what’s the difference? The past is the past ... it doesn’t have any impact on the present, nor should it influence our future.”

            Bilbo had to hand it to Ori, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get passed it. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

            “And besides,” Ori said. “We were talking about you.”

            “Let’s not, and say we did.”

            “You can’t stay in the rest of your life. You don’t deserve that.”

            “You sound like Bofur.”

            “Oh yeah!” Ori said, take a drink. “I heard he gave you the number of a friend of his.”

            Bilbo nodded. “We went out last Friday night.”

            “How did that go?”

            Bilbo gave Ori a level look but said nothing, just took a swig of beer.

            When Bilbo gave no verbal response, Ori figured that was his answer. “That good, huh?”

            Bilbo sighed. “Actually ... he wasn’t that bad.”

            “And ...?”

            “He was a nice guy.”

            “Just nice?”

            “We actually were a bit alike.”

            “That’s a good start.”

            “I mean ... he wasn’t complicated but he was able to hold a conversation without the need for handles.”

            “Okay. So ... what went wrong?”

            “We met at my new favorite restaurant ... you have to go! It’s great!”

            “Okay.”

            “We talked on the phone and decided that we’d meet in the bar of the restaurant and have a few drinks and if there was anything there, we’d have dinner. If not ... then we were only out a few hours of our time and a couple of drinks.”

            “Good idea.”

            “Well ...” Bilbo took another swig and sighed. “He couldn’t handle his liquor.”

            “Oh dear.” Ori grimaced.

            Bilbo nodded. “After only a few drinks he was rat-arsed! But did he stop? No, he had a couple more and before I knew it, he could barely stand. The bartender helped me get him out to the curb and, luckily, there was a taxi there.”

            “And you sent him on his way.”

            “Not before he chucked up all over my shoes.”

            Ori turned pale green. “Gross!”

            Bilbo shrugged. “He texted me the next morning, very apologetic, but ... I haven’t called him back and he hasn’t contacted me since.”

            They both sat for a bit but said nothing else.

            Finally, Ori brook the silence. “So, what do you plan to do now?”

            “Now? Nothing.” Bilbo was done.

            “Don’t give up,” Ori said cheerfully. “You never know.”

            “Forget it,” Bilbo insisted. “Four disasters in as many weeks. I’ve had my fill!”

            “Fill of what?”

            Both Ori and Bilbo turned to see Dwalin standing there.

            “Hello, love!” Ori said brightly, as he stood and gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Sit down.”

            “How are you, Bil?” Dwalin asked, taking a drink of Ori’s beer, while Ori motioned to the waiter to bring one for Dwalin.

            “Okay.”          

            “That good?” Dwalin laughed. “What have you had your fill about?” 

            “Nothing,” Bilbo said.

            But Ori filled Dwalin in. “Bilbo’s had a string of bad blind dates.”

            “Oh?” Dwalin asked, amused. “How bad is bad?”

            The waiter brought a bottle for Dwalin, while Ori gladly recounted all four of Bilbo’s recent dating implosions. By the time they’d reached Bilbo’s shoes being hosed down with Bob’s vomit, Dwalin was shaking his head.

            “Talk about bad luck,” Dwalin quipped. “Maybe you need to find a new restaurant!”

            “No!” Bilbo was aghast. “That’s been the only bright spot in them all!” Bilbo said, finishing his beer and moving to water. “That and the waiter.”

            “What about the waiter?” Dwalin asked.

            “Well, I didn’t have him each time,” Bilbo clarified. “But he was there each night.”

            Dwalin seemed to turn that over.

            “What’s the name of the place?” Ori asked.

            “The Blue Onion,” Bilbo stated.

            Dwalin nearly choked. “The Blue Onion?!”

            “Yeah,” Bilbo didn’t see the issue.

            Neither did Ori. “Is there a problem?”

            “No, it’s just ...” Dwalin seemed confused. “That’s my cousin, Dis’, place.” From the look on his face, Dwalin was trying to work something out. “And this waiter ...”

            “Nice guy,” Bilbo said, adding, “Very professional.”

            “Yeah,” Dwalin licked his lips. “Was this guy younger or older?”          

            Bilbo shrugged. “I wouldn’t say older ... about your age ... early, mid-thirties.”

            Dwalin nodded. “Dark hair? Silver in it? Man-bun?”

            “That’s right!”

            “Thorin.”

            Bilbo snapped his fingers. “That’s it! God, I couldn’t remember for the life of me! He was so nice!”

            “Yeah," Dwalin said, smirking. "I bet he was."

            “You don’t believe it?” Ori asked.

            Dwalin didn’t answer the question. He turned to Bilbo. “Tell me again, in detail, about these dates.”

 

 

 


	2. Dating Blind - A Waiter's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's POV
> 
> ** this chapter was not suppose to be anywhere NEAR this long!! but I just couldn't stop **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is to Nerdeeart for permission to use one of her AWESOME and lovely pics for my piece! AND for coming up with this all AU to begin with!!

* * *

 

 

            When he’d been asked, at the beginning, what happened, what was the catalyst, what was the final straw that broke the camel’s back; Thorin would say it was that damn movie.

            But that was an easy cop out he eventually gave up on.

            You see, it had truly started before that.

            When _exactly_ it started though, Thorin couldn’t say. For a long time – several months for sure, but it might have been a few years – he’d been slowly ‘deflating.’ That was the best way to describe it. Like he had a slow leak, like all the joy and happiness and satisfaction slowly bleed out of him until he’d gotten to the point that feeling empty was normal.

            His life has become so routine, so mundane, and so automatic that he hadn’t even been aware of what he was doing; he was on autopilot. He’d get up at six a.m., shower, shave, make coffee, a bowl of porridge, eat, throw the dishes in the sink, grab his briefcase and set off to work. He’d work steady, eat lunch at his desk, finish up on time – because he was never _not_ exactly on time – then head home.   He'd stop for takeaway – Chinese or Indian or something – on his way. He’d arrive home, place his briefcase by the door, put the bag of takeaway on the foyer table along with everything in his pockets, toe off his shoes, remove his tie as he walked to his bedroom, hang up said tie and his suit jacket, remove his slacks, hang those up as well, chuck his dress shirt into the dry cleaning basket, then pitch his socks and underclothes into the dirty laundry bin. He slip into a pair of old exercise shorts, some old tee shirt, grab the bag of takeaway, moved it to the coffee table, snagged a beer from the fridge, came back to the living room, sat on the couch, turned on the telly and proceeded to eat whatever it was he ordered and simply watch with little retention of what was on the screen. When it was all over, he’d toss the takeaway containers in the bin, wash all the dirty dishes from the day, and head to bed. He’d wake in the morning and do the whole thing all over again.

            But one night, something extraordinary happened. He flipped on the telly and that damn movie, _Eat Pray Love_ was on. He’d never had the slightest interest in such movies, so he changed the channel. Then he changed it again. And again. And again. He kept flipping and changing and searching, but there just wasn’t anything decent on.

            _Oh, what the hell._ He shrugged, flipped the channel back and settled in. _It has Julia Roberts, Viola Davis, and Javier Bardem in it, how bad could it be?_

            Bad wasn’t the word.

            Long after the movie had finished, Thorin sat silently in his darkened living room; he never did turn on the lights. His dinner lay on the coffee table, untouched. He hadn’t even been aware of turning off the telly. His mind was empty while he tried to come to terms with what he’d seen, what he now felt and what it all meant. He went to bed at some point, but for the life of him, he didn’t recall lying down.

            The whole next day was like a dream. He went through the motions of his day but his mind was elsewhere.

            _What am I doing with my life?_

_Is this all there is?_

_When was the last time I enjoyed myself?_

_The last time I laughed?_

_The last time I cried?_

_The last time I felt ... anything?_

            He couldn’t remember, to be honest.

            Oh sure, he had his family and he loved them dearly, especially his sister and two nephews. But that wasn’t the same. They were part of his life, but they weren’t _HIS_ life.

            When had his life become what it was? He’d gone into finance just like his father. And his grandfather. And his great-grandfather. He’d worked and driven himself to get top marks, to get a good job, to have a great career, to have a posh flat in the best part of town, to have it all, as they said. But was this _‘It?’_ Was this all there was to have? Was there no more? Was there nothing worthwhile?

            Would he live and die this way?

            A small voice, long buried, spoke out of the darkness of his mind and told him, _But you're already dying Thorin. When did you last live?_

Live.

            That was it.

            When had he last, truly _LIVED_?

            He remembered reading somewhere; a book on minimalism that he glanced over at the bookstore, that the stuff you own ends up owning you. And in a way, that was what happened to him; he didn’t own his life, it owned him! He worked like a dog just so that this life he had created, the one he thought he needed because that was what successful people had, could continue on. The more he worked, the more he bought, and the more he bought, the more he needed to work. It was an endless cycle of empty fulfillment. He'd become a _‘the-glass-is-half-full’_ kind of guy that was always trying to fill the glass completely. 

            But that was an illusion, wasn’t it? Because the glass was never really full. Not if you listened to the ads and read the magazines and opened the spam, they all told you that you’d only be happy when you had this thing or that thing or some other thing. You had to have the best flat, and the best car, and the right clothes and wore the right cologne, or shopped at the right stores, or bought the best ‘stuff.’

            And it was time to end it.

            Not two weeks later, he made up his mind. He quit his job. Sold all the crap. Donated or trashed that which he couldn’t or didn’t care to sell. He put his flat on the market. And oddly enough as each and every item left his world, he found he could breathe again.

            His family nearly panicked!   His father and mother were beside themselves; they just didn’t understand. His little brother thought him insane. Most of his cousins thought he was having some mental breakdown. His cousin Dwalin thought it a lark but didn’t ask for anything deeper; that wasn’t his style.

            Only his little sister seemed to understand.

            “Frerin thinks I’m mental.”

            They were sitting in the cafe across from his, now, former flat’s building, enjoying coffee and a few biscuits together.

            Dis let loose with her melodious laugh. “Of course he does! His favorite word is _‘conform!’_ ”

            Thorin shook his head. “He’s not the only one.”

            “Mum and Dad are just worried. So is Frerin, really. They’ll come around.”

            “And you’re not worried?”

            “Of course I am,” Dis said matter-of-factly. “But more than that, I trust you. I trust you to know what is best for you.”

            Thorin had to smile.

            “And you know, that I know ... that you know ... if you need me, I’m here.”

            Thorin laughed at that and leaned over to kiss his sister on the cheek. “Thanks, love.”

            They each took a drink, Dis reaching for a biscuit from the plate between them. “Have you any immediate plans?”

            Thorin shrugged. “Beyond settling in, none.” He’d found a nice little flat in a very modest neighborhood. It was far from the posh flat he’d just sold, but it was tidy and made him feel more grounded.

            “I meant for work.”

            “No.”

            Dis sighed. “I know you. You won’t be happy floating about and doing nothing all day, every day.”

            While he had indeed sat around doing nothing at nights, that was after long days of hard work and nonstop chaos. Dis was right, Thorin wasn’t one to sit around just do nothing all day long; probably why he hadn’t cared for Yoga. “I’m doing well in the Tai Chi class.” Thorin felt that Tai Chi was like moving meditation. He liked that.

            “Okay,” Dis said, smiling. “That takes care of an hour and half of a day. What about the other twenty-two and a half?”

            “I’m just going to let life take me where I need to go.” Trust the universe; that was Thorin’s new motto.

            “God,” Dis said, laughing. “You sound like a few of my waiters!” She downed the last of her coffee. “And speaking of which ...” she glanced down at her watch “... I’ve got to get going.”

            “Now?” Thorin looked at his own watch, it was only one thirty in the afternoon. “You don’t open for another couple of hours?”

            “Can’t be helped.” She stood up, slung her purse over her shoulder then leaned down and kissed Thorin on his cheek. “Talk to you later, darling.”

            “But—”

            “I have to dash!” Dis turned around but Thorin took hold of her wrist to stop her.

            “What’s going on?”

            Dis sighed. “I just have some slackers, so I’m not only having to play Maître D’, but I’m having to watch them all the time!” Dis disentangled herself when Thorin’s hold lessened. “Now, I have to go, darling. Really.”

            Thorin just sat there while Dis rushed off. His sister had poured her all her energy and drive into her restaurant, The Blue Onion, so named after their mother’s wedding china, and had been rewarded with a top notch eatery that was raved about. But that didn’t mean Dis should do everything, in Thorin’s mind. Must she now give up more of her life just to have things run smoothly?

            As his mind spun around, he made his way back to his flat and even as he showered, trimmed his bread and dressed, he’d decided his course of action without conscious thought.

            He could help his sister.

            He _would_ help his sister.

            Not an hour later Thorin walked into The Blue Onion and made a beeline for Dis, who was setting tables in the back dining room.

            “What on Earth are you doing here?!”

            Thorin smiled. “I’m your new Maître D.”

            Dis laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ll feed you gladly, but I’m not _making_ you work here!”

            “You aren’t _making_ me doing anything. I want to help.”

            Dis stood there for second before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Really. I shouldn’t have made it sound—”

            “You need help,” Thorin said, and then sighed. “As much as you say you know me, I know you too ... you joke about something or trivialize it, but that’s your way of deflecting from the fact there’s a true problem.”

            Dis just stared at Thorin, her expression turning serious. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t—”

            Thorin cut her off. “Don’t try and use your independence as an excuse. My help is freely offered ... I’m your brother, your family ... I love you ... and helping you does not take away from your feminism, make you weak, or diminish your worth as a female.” Dis stood still, chewing on her lip; she was taking in what Thorin said, and so he played his ace. “Just like your offer to help me does nothing to take away my masculinity, make me subservient or diminish me as a male.”

            Dis groaned out a sigh. “That’s not fair!”

            “You have said those same words to me many a time.”

            “Yes, but I never thought you’d use them again me!”

            Thorin smirked. “I learned from the best!”

            Dis made a face but it was tempted by a small forming smile.

            “You’re just being stubborn.”

            Now Dis smirked, gesturing towards Thorin. “Well, I learned from the best!”

            Thorin laughed. “I won’t deny that!”

            Dis relaxed and finally confessed. “My wait staff is young, mostly inexperienced and I can’t seem to get a Maître D to ... to just organize them or lead them. I’ve been out there trying to keep order and yet—”

            “Still needing to be in the kitchen. Where you prefer to be all the time.”

            Dis nodded. “Bombur can run the kitchen blindfolded, but—”

            “But that’s where your passion lies.” Thorin knew his sister all too well. She was the best damn cook in town, with Bombur giving her a run for her money. She was lucky to have snagged him. “Creating food is the whole reason you opened this place.”

            “Exactly.”

            “Then let me,” Thorin took the what silverware Dis held from here, “worry about the dining room and your wait staff ... you go play in the kitchen.”

            “ _Play_?!” Dis said, pretending indignation.

            “Well ...” Thorin said, starting to dressing the tables and teasing Dis. “You’re only slapping food on a plate.”

            Dis looked horrified if amused. “I should tell Bombur you said that! He’d march out here and slap your face!”  

            Thorin laughed riotously at the mental imagine.

            Dis came over and gave Thorin a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

            “You’d do the same.”

            Dis nodded; she would.

            Dis retreated to the kitchen and Thorin finished setting all the tables. He made his way to the staff room and checked the schedule; five waiters tonight plus himself. Three of which were already there. They said nothing to him when he walked him, only followed him questionably with their eyes; whispering to themselves.           

            Thorin had come prepared. He’d worn black pants and a pale blue shirt as was required of the staff. He took one of the supplied black ties and was careful to tie it perfect. Dis had all the waiters wear waistcoats, so Thorin took one of those and put it on, and then finished his look with one of the black aprons that had The Blue Onion logo embroidered on the left pocket. He was carefully combing out his hair, putting it up in a neat bun at the nape of his neck, when the last of the waiters arrived.

            The five young men greeted each other in a jocular manner; Thorin was not surprised given what Dis had said. He figured he let them get that out of their system before introducing himself to them. He didn’t want to come on too strong. That was the plan anyway.

            However, one the five decided to throw down the gauntlet.

            “So ...” came the husky voice of the most cocksure of the waiters, “Who’s the old hippy?”

            Thorin sighed and slowly turned around, schooling his expression into an unreadable mask. “I’m the new Maître D.”

            The kid laughed, quickly followed by a couple of the others; clearly his minions. “You? Where’d the boss-lady dig you up?”

            _Excuse me?_ Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow. “If by ... _‘boss-lady’_ , you refer to Ms. Vilison, the owner and ... my sister ...,” Thorin let the information sink into the five boys’ brains as the color drained from their faces. “... then I assure you ... she didn’t have to _dig me up_ from anywhere.”

            Thorin would have to admit, he was impressed. Four of the five boys looked away and wouldn’t meet his eyes. But the cocky one, a blond boy too good-looking for his own good, while quickly schooling his expression into something unabashed, didn’t lower his eyes and held Thorin’s stare. Thorin had a funny feeling he was going to like this kid.

            And Thorin’s funny feeling worked out.

            After taking complete and total charge, he did the one thing to put them on their guard; he changed their assignments. This was not for revenge nor was it for spite. There was no faster way to see what they were made of than throwing them a curve and watching how they responded.

            Within the first week, two of the boy’s left, unwilling to follow commands or work under their new hawk-eyed Maître D. No matter, they were replaced quickly enough. As Thorin had suspected, the blond, Josh, was not only a sharp kid but also a hard worker; it became evident that what the guy had needed was a strong leader, with an undivided attention, to guide him. Josh was the one that recommended the two new guys, Philip and Sid. Like their friend Josh, Philip and Sid were sharp and the three became the go to waiters for the big dining room. The fourth waiter, Anthony, wasn’t as quick but he worked as hard and once he realized Thorin wouldn’t ask any more than he was willing to do himself, setting into place and proved to be a fine server.

            It was the fifth one, Charlie, who was the unfortunate one.

            Just a month after starting there, Thorin was approached by Josh.

            “We have a problem, boss,” Josh said seriously.

            “And what’s that?” Thorin was just finishing his inspection of all the dining rooms before they opened. It was Friday, and they expected to be busy.

            “Charlie isn’t cutting it.”

            One thing that Thorin really liked about Josh was that the guy didn’t mince words. “I know.”

            “I’d hate to see him fired, but ...”

            “That’s not top on my list of solutions.” Charlie might be slower and not as bright, but he was a good kid and never questioned was handed to him. He tried so hard. Thorin hated the idea of cutting him.

            But Josh surprised Thorin again. “I ... I think I might have an alternative.”

            “You mean another friend to take his place?”

            “No! No. Not that way. I mean ... well ... I overheard him telling Phil one night that he wished he worked with the food.”

            A light went off. “You mean in preparation.”

            Josh nodded.

            Thorin got it. “And Bombur and Dis have been talking about adding another kitchen assistant.”   

            Josh smiled.

            “Excellent idea.”

            One quick conversation with Charlie and he confessed that the whole reason he took as position here was to get in with Dis and Bombur, two of the city’s best chef’s, so that he could learn from them. He’d just never had the chance to chat with them about it. In the end, everyone was happy.

            But they were now a waiter short.

            “Charlie could always start next week,” Philip said when they all met before opening.

            Dis had suggested Charlie start in the kitchen that night; let him see how it runs at one of their busiest times. Thorin had no objections. “No.” Thorin shook his head. “No point in waiting.”

            “We can handle it!” Josh had no fear.

            But Thorin was still concerned. “I don’t doubt it. But four in this place is pushing our luck on an easy night.   A Friday ...”

            “Do we know anyone that fill in?” Sid asked, looking at Josh and Phil. They shook their heads and even Anthony had no answer.

            Thorin did though. “Josh, you, Philip and Sid take the big room as usual. I need my strongest there. Anthony, you take the left side, front dining room ...” they all nodded. “I have someone in mind,” Thorin said, before stopping and smirking. “Two actually.”

            Just twenty minutes later, Thorin had his reinforcements.

            “Thanks for calling, Uncle Thorin!” Kili said as he and Fili quickly changed into uniforms.

            “Yeah,” Fili agreed. “Mum hasn’t wanted us to come in and help.”

            “Because you had your end-of-year exams,” Thorin said, taking a gulp of his routine, _‘before-all-hell-broke-loose’_ cup of coffee. “But those are over now. And since I am short a waiter, and you two have the time, it’s perfect for Kili to learn the ropes.”        

            Kili gasped. “You mean I’m not just going to be bussing the tables?!”

            Thorin shook his and Kili whooped!

            “So that’s why you called me in too,” Fili said, smiling. “You want me to train him.”

            “No.”

            “ _What_?” Both boys said in unison.

            “I know you, Fee,” Thorin said softly. “Kili will get a little overwhelmed, and you’ll want to step in and help and then next thing we know, you’ll be waiting on all the tables and Kili will end up just standing around, assisting.”

            Neither nephew argued that point; it was true.

            Thorin looked to Fili. “I want you to play Maître D, while I train Kili in the small, back left the dining room.” The back left only had four tables in it. “I’ll take two and Kili will take two. That way, he can learn but I’ll be there so he won’t flounder.”

            Both boys nodded; it was a good idea.

            For the first hour, it was perfect. Fili filled up the large dining room and the front, left dining room first, leaving Thorin to go over a great many things with Kili before their first customer’s arrived. Thorin took the first table and had Kili watch. The next table was Thorin’s as well but he let Kili do a bit more. Finally, Kili got his first table and did well. Thorin thought everything was going swimmingly.

            Until Kili’s second table.

            The couple, at first seemed nice enough. But it was clear, one of the guys was just a nasty piece of work. Loud, obnoxious, condensing; treated Kili like a servant. Granted, Kili was a server, but that didn’t warrant someone treating him like dirt. However, Kili kept his cool. When they guy claimed the silverware was dirty, Kili apologized and brought all new for the table. When the water glass seemed spotty, Kili again brought all new. Yet, Kili could do no right! The guy snapped his fingers and proclaimed that Kili was incompetent and slow and all the things Kili wasn’t.

            Thorin was getting real pissed, _real quick_! And from the looks of the guy’s cute, curly haired companion, Thorin wasn’t the only one. How a sweet-looking little hottie like that could be out with an arrogant pig was beyond Thorin’s comprehension. But he figured it took all types.

            It was when the pompous fucker called Kili a little poof, loudly, that Thorin had reached his limit. It was unprofessional but he couldn’t take one more second of the guy.

            So, when the time came, just before their soup went out, Thorin dump a shitload of salt in the creep’s bowl. The guy complained but his companion instead that the soup was fine!  Another bowl was brought but Thorin made sure that too was 'spiced up.'  Then, when the guy demanded a more wine, Thorin handed Kili a glass that he’d swirled vinegar in firsts. When the main course was due to go out, Thorin added a few extra pinches of salt and used sour mix rather than lemon on the guy’s chicken! By the end of the meal, the guy was livid and Thorin had to work very hard to keep a straight face!

            Thorin did feel a _tiny_ bad; the guy’s date, the curly haired hottie with a cute bow tie, was obviously mortified at the guy’s behavior. But no way around it.

            The pig, naturally, demanded that the entire meal be free!   Kili wasn’t sure what to do; the guy’s date had insisted that everything was fine; they had the same things. But no, the guy almost had a stroke, frothing at the mouth, insisting it be free or he’d sue. Thorin took over and said, of course, it was on the house and apologized that the meal didn’t meet the man’s standards. The guy continued to shout about it, even after the bill was comped, so Thorin was left with only one option.

            He ‘accidentally’ dumped the small pitcher of cream that had come with their deserts and coffee, into the man’s lap.

            Again, Thorin felt only a tiny bit sad when the guy left; not for the guy, mind you. Thorin was disappointed because he was sure that the guy’s date would never be back either. _Shame, he was so cute._

            Oh well, c’est le vive.

            However, the following Friday, Thorin was in for a treat!

            Thorn and Kili were working the back right dining room again. This time, however, the curly-haired cutie came in with a different date and got seated at one of Thorin’s tables. The new date certainly liked to live life to the fullest; the best of everything and the more expensive, the better. And he wasn’t loud and seemed to have some manners. However, Thorin immediately took a dislike to the little hottie’s new date; the guy was full of himself! We’ve all met that kind of arse that if you said you’d been to the moon, he’d swear he’d been there twice and was planning a trip to Mars!   No matter what you’d done, he’d done it better, fast, with more style and for less money; unless spending more money made it seem better!

            And for some strange reason that just irritated the shit out of Thorin!

            Yet what really took the cake? While the cute guy was off to the loo, Thorin caught the arsehole texting another guy! Didn’t even try and hide the text from view! And he wasn’t just texting someone else, he was setting a hook-up! FOR LATER THAT NIGHT!   After he had his way with Thorin’s hottie!

            Thorin had had enough! So, oddly, the man’s credit card was _unfortunately_ declined. How terrible. So was his next one. And the next. And his last. It wasn’t hard to push the ‘right’ button and get a reject slip to pop out either.

            That shut up the cocky little Dick-weasel!

            Real quick!

            And the curly-haired guy was mortified. He paid for the whole meal – that’s how Thorin got the cute guy’s name, right off this credit card, _Bilbo Baggins_. And when Bilbo and his dick-headed date parted ways, Thorin was sure that this date would be their last!

            _Good!_

            And why shouldn’t it be?! A great guy like Bilbo didn’t deserve to be with some prat like that! He didn’t deserve to spend his night with some knob! Being taken advantage of or being used! No! Bilbo needed someone who hung on his every word and treated him like gold! He needed someone who appreciated his wit and humor, laughed at his jokes sincerely, and attended to his wishes! Lord knows, Thorin would have done that! Bilbo needed someone like ...

 

_**Waiter Thorin by Nerdeeart!** _

 

            _Oh ... shit._

            Thorin was in trouble.   And he knew it.

            _No. Don’t think that!_

But damn.

            _Let it go, Durin. Let it go._ He doubted Bilbo would be back after that second date anyway and frankly, it was for the best. Thorin shouldn’t have been so petty. It was wrong in a way. Maybe Bilbo didn’t mind such a guy; although that rankled Thorin to no end just thinking about it. Maybe, in reality, Bilbo was a bit of the same way? But that was at odds with Bilbo’s reaction.

            No. It was wrong what Thorin had done and he promised himself he’d not do it again.

            So much for promises.

            Come the next Friday night, Thorin had decided that he was going to give all four tables to Kili, who was doing phenomenal, and just hang back, play the support person.

            The first customer through the door was an attractive, executive type. Tall, thin, perfectly groomed dark hair, goatee, and dark blue suit that looked like it had been custom made for the man. Thorin wasn’t interested in the least, but he had to smile at himself; the guy was everything that Thorin used to be.

            As the man settled in, and Thorin was pouring his water, the guy’s mobile rang.

            “Hello, darling,” the guy said, deep voice that came from his toes.

            Thorin couldn’t hear the words but could hear the voice of a woman. _Wife? Girlfriend? Lover? Sister?_

            “I’m going to be very late tonight.”

            _Wife probably._

            “See, now that’s why I married you.”

            _Wife._

            “I’ll try and get this meeting over with as soon as possible, I promise.”

            _Working late and putting work ahead what mattered._ Thorin wanted to tell the guy that life was too short, but he’d been there too.

            “Give the kids kisses for me.”

            _Work ahead of his family?!_ Even worse!

            “I know, sweetie, but ... this meeting could really ... take me places.”

            Yeah, Thorin knew that line too. How many times in his early career had some manager talked him into a late night meeting or project with the vaguest promise of advancement?

            “Okay, love. I’ve got to go. But if you need me ... call, Jim, he can get through to me. Don’t wait up. I love you.”

            Thorin had to hand it to the guy. Maybe this was hard on him. Maybe he’d grown up with nothing and wanted better for his kids. Maybe this would lead to something better, something bigger, something—

            “I’m sorry I’m late!”

            Thorin slowly turned his head and almost screamed! Bilbo Baggins was not only back and walking into the dining area, but coming over to the married guy and the guy was, GETTING OUT OF HIS CHAIR AND KISSING BILBO ON THE FUCKING CHEEK!

            _Something better and bigger, my arse! Something adulterous!_

            “You’re not late,” the guy said smoothly. “And even if you were, you are worth waiting for.”

            Bilbo blushed and Thorin fumed!   _How could Bilbo go out with a –_

            “It was nice that we could meet on such short notice!”

            “Well ...” the guy said, as they took their seats, “It’s not like I have anything to rush home to.”

            What?

            “Really? Nori made it sound like you’re busy all the time.”

            “I work. A lot!”

            Bilbo giggled. “You know what they say. All work and no play ...”

            “I assure you, Mister Baggins,” the guys said, giving Bilbo a wink, “I’m far from dull.”

            _That two-timing, mother fucking, son of a—_ Thorin had to walk away; he was going fucking punch the creep! Not only cheating on his wife but also lying right to Bilbo’s face! _That piece of fucking shite!_ And now it was so clear! Oh, course he’d have his wife call a friend, who was probably in on it and who would assure her that her husband was busy and then probably text the looser to call or something!   Obviously not the guy’s first rodeo, as they said in the States! Thorin was so mad he wanted to spit!

            And what of Bilbo? From the way the guy talked, he was an ace at this. He said all the right things, at the right time, laughed in the right places, and gave casual compliments that were subtle but effective. Bilbo was falling for it all, but Thorin wouldn’t blame Bilbo.

            It was the fucking walking dickhead’s fault!

            But what could Thorin do? As much as grabbing the guy, punching him and dragging him out to the street would have been so satisfying, that was out of the question. And Thorin couldn’t just walk up and call the guy out! In fact, anything Thorin did would only confirm that he’d listened to the guy’s phone conversation, and ultimately would make him look bad in Bilbo’s eyes and totally ruin – Christ! It was infuriating! Where was a Winged Angel of Vengeance when you needed one?!

            Where was the Divine Intervention?

            A lightbulb went off in Thorin’s head. It naughty but it would do!

            Thorin waited for just the right moment; the creep and Bilbo had just got their appetizers when Thorin made his move.

            “Fili,” Thorin said, coming up behind his nephew. “We just got a call for one of the customers.”

            “We did?” Fili looked perplexed. “I didn’t hear the phone.”

            “I was right there,” Thorin said quickly. “Next to it.”

            “Oh.”

            “Who was the man you sat first?”

            Fili looked down at the reservations. “Osborne. Guy Osborne.”

            “That’s it. Would you mind ... I, uhm ... need to get something from the kitchen ... just ... tell him that Jim called and his wife needs him to come home as soon as possible. I think there might be a problem with one of his kids.”

            “Oh ... right! Sure!”

            Fili took off and Thorin took his time, going through the kitchen and reemerging into Kili’s section just as Fili dropped the bomb.

            “Your _wife_?!” Bilbo demanded.

            Thorin almost laughed, Mister Osborne didn’t look so in control anymore.

            “Bilbo—”

            “You’re married!”

            “Bilbo, let me expl—”

            “With children no less!”      

            Osborne laughed but he didn’t come off well. “That doesn’t mean you and I can’t—”

            “IT MOST CERTAINLY DOES!”

            Osborne nodded.

            “Just. Go.”

            “Bilbo—”

            “GO!”

            Osborne nodded again and stood. “I’m ... I’m sorry, Bilbo.”

            Bilbo closed his eyes, his face beet red and said nothing.

            Osborne made to leave but Thorin stopped him. “With all due respect sir, but what of the bill?”

            Osborne looked confused.

            “Or are you going to _screw_ Mister Baggins with that too?”

            Osborne had the decency to blush at that. He simply handed his credit card to Thorin. “I’ll ... I’ll come back for that.” Thorin nodded and let the man leave.

            Bilbo, on the other hand, was gathering his things.

            “Leaving, sir?” Thorin asked quietly as he came up to the table.

            “Never in all my life,” Bilbo said, doing everything to avoid looking at Thorin, “have I been so embarrassed.”

            “It’s not your fault,” Thorin whispered.

            “Fool. That’s what I am. A fool.” Bilbo starting to stand, by Thorin stopped him with both hands on his shoulders.

            “You are nothing of the sort,” Thorin insisted, gently pushing Bilbo back down into the chair.

            Bilbo sank down, resting his head in a palm. “I feel so stupid.”

            “You aren’t that either.” _You’re lovely and funny and look adorable and kissable and deserve so much better._ But Thorin naturally said none of that. “Why not have dinner and relax.”

            “I don’t think I could eat.”

            “Are you sure? Dinner’s on him.”

            When Bilbo looked up questionably, Thorin flashed Osborne’s card with a shit-eating grin.

            Bilbo chewed his lip, unsure.   “I ... I have wonder how appropriate that is.”

            Thorin cocked an eyebrow. “I would think very ... especially if someone has been caught cheating on their spouse.”

            Bilbo huffed out a laugh. “That’ hard to argue with.”

            “Instead of an argument,” Thorin said with a purr in his voice, “may I suggest a lovely glass of wine?”

            Bilbo gave in and smiled. “All right. What do you suggest?”

            “I have a lovely French Bordeaux,” Thorin said, giving Bilbo a sly smile. “Or if you would prefer, there’s a delicious California Sauvignon Blanc.” Bilbo smiled back sincerely and Thorin noted that Bilbo lit up when he smiled.

            “Surprise me,” Bilbo said, relaxing finally.

            “In that case,” Thorin said, putting the napkin back on Bilbo’s lap, “I would go with the California white, because ... if I may also suggest ... it goes well our Sea Bass in a Beurre Blanc which is served with oven roasted vegetables.”

            Bilbo’s smile grew. “That sounds lovely!”

            “I thought you might like it.”

            Although he had intended of letting Kili run the whole room, Thorin took care of Bilbo himself.   Making suggestions, complimenting him on his choices, bringing him wine and keeping his water glass full at all times. Thorin brought out small samples of appetizers and other entrees for Bilbo, with the excuse that they were new dishes and Thorin would love to get Bilbo’s opinion. Throughout, Thorin cleared dishes and kept the table neat and clean. He even brought out a small side salad, just knowing Bilbo would like it. Finally, went Bilbo declared himself stuffed, and only ordered a cup of tea to finish off his meal, Thorin had one more surprise.

            “For you,” Thorin said, sliding a tiny, layered sponge cake with a fresh, ruby red strawberry and whipped cream on top.

 

_**Waiter Thorin giving Bilbo his 'just' dessert ... by Neerdeart** _

 

 

            Bilbo drew a soft breath, gazing longingly at the tiny cake. “But ... I’m so full!” Bilbo whined, even as he was reaching for the desert fork Thorin placed next to the plate, licking his lips in anticipation.

            “You don’t have to eat it,” Thorin said.

            Bilbo gave Thorin a playful scowl before quickly taking the first bite and closed his eyes, chewing slowly and gently, letting the cake melt in his mouth. “It’s so ... so ...”

            “Good?”

            “Gorgeous.” Bilbo took another bite and once again, closed his eyes dreamily.

            Thorin smiled; Bilbo was happy, so Thorin was as well. He said no more, merely enjoyed watching Bilbo enjoy every bite of his cake. It was a rather vicarious feeling getting such pleasure from watching Bilbo pleasure and Thorin couldn’t help but think of feeding that cake, himself, to Bilbo as they snuggled close, at a table, or on the couch or maybe even as they lay in bed, after a late night session of –

            _Okay, Durin. Enough._ Thorin shook himself out of it. _Pull back._ _Stay professional._ He sighed. He had it way bad.

            And he told himself; he was doing this to be nice, because Osborne has tried to use someone and that someone got hurt.   That’s all it was. Just a way to be nice to someone.

            _Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Durin._

            “Thank you,” Bilbo said, drawing Thorin out of his thoughts.

            “You are more than welcome, B— ... sir.” Thorin caught himself at the last second.   

            Bilbo gathered his things and left. Thorin wouldn’t admit aloud his disappointment that Bilbo was gone. But his heart said otherwise.

            Thorin was a sleepwalker for the rest of the evening, not really ‘waking’ until he was home and wondering how he got there. He sighed. He knew what needed to be done. It had to stop. Bilbo didn’t know him from Adam and frankly, Bilbo didn’t need to know. Thorin had his plans and really, had Bilbo shown any interest, he would have said something, or done something, or gave any indication that he was interested.

            Thorin should just drop it.

            As he climbed into bed, Thorin promised himself that if Bilbo came back, he’d not to a thing. If Bilbo came in with another guy, he’d let the night progress as it should and let the chips fall where they may.

            By the following Friday, Kili was ready and Thorin set him free. Fili still wanted to help and seeing how their bartender had called in sick, Thorin made the decision to man the central lounge area himself. It was just as well. Bilbo usually came on Friday’s and this way, behind the bar, away from the tables, Thorin would well out of the way.

            Leave it to Bilbo Baggins, though, to thwart all of Thorin’s plans without even knowing it.

            “Hello there!”

            Thorin spun around and there was Bilbo, sitting at the bar like he belonged there.

            “Ah ... hello.” _Play it cool, you idjit._ Thorin cleared his throat and smiled. “How are you this evening?”     

            Bilbo smiled back. “Fine. They have you playing barkeep.”

            “Ours called in.”

            Bilbo nodded.

            “Can I get you anything?” _My number, key to my flat, controlling interest in my life?_ “Wine, or ale?”

            “Well ... I’m waiting for someone.”

            _Of course, you are._

            “So ... I think I’ll wait unt—”

            “Bilbo?”

            Both Bilbo and Thorin turned to find a plain, slightly stocky, man with glasses. He wore a clean white shirt with a deep bronze colored tie and a cardigan that was the same, rather drab, olive green as his pants. His dark hair was parted on the side and combed back away from his full, round face. He was clean-shaven, with pink cheeks and a pleasant, shy smile. All in all, the guy looked good-natured and had the air of someone that kind.   He was just a nice guy.

            “Bob?” Bilbo got off the bar stool and reached out a hand, which was taken by the man.

            “It’s very nice to meet you,” Bob said, shaking Bilbo’s hand and giving Bilbo a brighter smile, which Bilbo returned.

            Thorin didn’t care for Bob. “Would you care for something to drink?” Thorin asked as Bilbo sat back at the bar and Bob took the seat next to him.

            “I’ll have ... uhm ...” Bilbo thought on it.

            “I’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea,” Bob said. “A small one.”

            “I’ll think I have a Fullers,” Bilbo said.

            Thorin smiled and went to filling their order as the two men got to chatting. _Relax, Durin._ Thorin breathed in and out, slowly. _You promised yourself._ And he had. He’d not interfere, he’d not pull any tricks. He’d let Bilbo do as he pleased.

            But standing there, taking his time, Thorin could not help but overhear the conversation. Bilbo and Bob seemed to be hitting it off and had a few things in common; plants, reading, similar musical tastes, some movies.

            _Bilbo’s taste is better suited to mine than Bob’s!  We're more compatible in our contrasts!_  Thorin cleared this throat and tried to ignore his inner voice. But it was so hard!

            With resignation, Thorin turned, a smile plastered on his face, and placed their drinks before them; each taking a sip.

            “Wow,” Bob said, smacking his lips and raising his eyebrows, “that’s a strong one.” Then he laughed, and Bilbo joined him.

            _Oh, shit._ Thorin sighed; that’s what he got for not watching closely. He needed to pay closer attention. “If you don’t care for it, I can—”           

            “No, no,” Bob said, taking another sip. “It’s fine.”

            “Well, it’s, uhm ...” Thorin glanced at the clock, making a little show of it. “Happy hour, so ... it’s two for one.”

            “Luck you!” Bilbo said, laughing.

            _What the hell are you doing? You don’t have a happy hour or two-for-ones!_ But Thorin ignored his inner voice again.   He made another for Bob and if he purposely chose to not watch exactly how much alcohol went into the drink, and _accidentally_ used less sour mix and cola, then that was between him and his conscience.      

            You know, the one he was ignoring.

            As the hour advanced, it became clear that Thorin’s alcoholic bombs were having an effect on the mild-mannered Bob. When the second Long Island was half full, Thorin asked if Bob would like another. ‘Sure!’ Came Bob's slightly slurred response. Thorin set about making two more – it was _‘happy hour’_ after all – and this time, put them in tall glasses as they were suppose to be. Once more, the time ticked by and Bob got a little more red-cheeked and a little more jovial and a great deal tipsier.

            “Try this,” Thorin said, placing an acid blue-colored cocktail on the counter before Bob.

            “Waz t’at!” Bob garbled out, looking at the glass like a thirsty man in the desert, looking at the ocean.

            Thorin almost chuckled but said calmly, “A variant of the Long Island I thought you might like.”

            Bilbo looked dubious. “Uhm ... maybe you shouldn’t—”

            “Nah!” Bob said laughing. “I’m fine!” He grabbed the blue concoction and downed half in one gulp.

            _That should do it,_ Thorin mused. The blue drink truly was a variant, just made with blue curacao and Sprite, rather than sour mix and Coke. _No need to tell him though that it had a different, legit name; The Adios Motherfucker Cocktail_. And with the way Bob sucked it down, Bilbo would be saying ‘Adios’ any min—

            “I don’t ...” Bob breathed out and had turned from pink-cheeked to a pale green. “... don’t feel so great.”

            “I’m not surprised,” Bilbo said, just loud enough for Thorin to hear. “I think we need to find you a taxi.”

            Bob breathed slowly. “It’s still ...” he closed his eyes for a few seconds. “... early.”

            “I think it might be best.” Bilbo got up and started to help Bob stand.

            “Let me help you,” Thorin said, coming around the bar.

            How they got him outside, so quickly, was a miracle. Honestly, with the sway Bob had with each step, it was lucky they made it out of the bar area, let alone out of the restaurant!   And their luck held; there was a black cab right at the kerb.

            “Bilbo ...” Bob said, holding onto the open door and the roof to keep upright. “It was ... it was very nice to ...” the color drained from Bob’s face and a moment later, the contents of his stomach erupted up and out onto Bilbo’s pristine pair of Clark’s. “... to meet you.”

            To Bilbo’s credit, he just looked down at his ruined shoes and nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” Once the cab pulled away, Bilbo looked down again, sighed and turned to Thorin, saying, “These were my favorites.”

            Thorin sighed himself and nodded. What could he say? Bob’s final departing gift had not been Thorin’s intended outcome but, there was no going back.

            “I truly think it’s time to call it a night.”

            “Do you, uhm ...” Thorin cleared his throat and tried to act normal. “Need me to call you a cab?”

            “No,” Bilbo said. “I doubt any cabbie would want my shoes in their cab.”

            Thorin nodded. “Probably not.”

            Bilbo bid Thorin goodnight and walked off. Thorin hung his head and huffed out a frustrated sigh. Not what he wanted! He’d only wanted Bob to either make a fool of himself and/or go away. Not both _, and_ upchuck on Bilbo’s footwear!  Now, Bilbo had had four terrible dates, all because of Thorin. Well, maybe not the first three – Thorin only had a hand in ruining those; the guys themselves had deserved it. But this last one? Bob? No, that was all Thorin and there was no denying it. And Lord knows what Bilbo was feeling. Did he blame _himself_? Believe he had rotten luck?

            For the next week, Thorin went back and forth but by the next Friday, Thorin had decided he wouldn’t go in. He called off and stayed home. If on the off chance, Bilbo did come back with a date, he’d not have any more issues because of Thorin.

            _You said you wouldn’t do a thing, Durin and look what you did!_

            It was for the best.

            However, when he came back on Saturday, Dis was waiting for him.

            “Have a nice Friday night?” She asked sweetly. It was the first warning.

            “Ah ... yeah.” Thorin looked about and saw Fili and Kili standing by the bar, trying for all their might to look like they weren’t watching and listening when they were obviously watching _and_ listening. “I just stayed home.”

            Dis nodded. “I just wondered if you had a date with some cute, curly-haired guy.” Her tone was casual but it was far from soft.

            Thorin looked at the boys again. “What did they say?”

            “I swear, Uncle, I didn’t mean to say anything!” Fili insisted

            “We had no idea! Honest!” Kili stated.

            “Enough,” Dis said, silencing the boys and turning back to Thorin. “Don’t blame them.”

            “No doubt.”

            “I was curious as to why you were off, and Fili thought you might be out with a customer. I asked him what customer and he told me about you getting the guy’s date drunk!”

          _Shit._

            “Then Kili asked if it was the ‘cute, curly-haired guy’, to which I asked what guy and he told me of the one that had the date with the rejected credit cards!”

          _Oh, fuck._

            “That’s when Fili put two and two together and figured out it must be the same guy that you had deliver a message to the table about a wife or something?!”

            Thorin licked his lips. He was cornered. He had no idea anyone noticed.

            “Naturally I was less than pleased to find out you have been sabotaging my customers and using my business as a meat market for your dates!”

            “That’s not true!”

            “THEN! Kili told me about the guy you practically POISONED on his first night?!”

            “That’s not ... I mean, it wasn’t ...” Thorin cleared his throat. “Poisoned is an exaggeration.”

            “WHAT I WANT IS FOR YOU TO TELL ME THEY ARE MISTAKEN!”

            Thorin couldn’t do that. “Dis ... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen, but ... well ... it won’t happen again.”

            “You’re damn right!” Dis snarled. “Because you’re fired!”

            “WHAT?!” Thorin was incredulous. “I’m your brother! You can’t fire me!”

            “THE HELL I CAN’T!”

            Both boys tried to reason with Dis but it was a done deal for her. Dis stormed back into the kitchen and Thorin stormed out. By the time he reached his flat, he’d calmed and he knew, it was all on him.

            None of this was supposed to happen. He had only wanted to help Dis and his intentions were good and he never meant to hurt her or Bilbo or anyone! But he had. And now? Now he was without a job, Dis was furious, his nephews most probably felt guilty – it wasn’t their fault at all – and Bilbo was most likely feeling terrible and there was no way for Thorin to make it up to him.

            It was just about as he was sinking into a real funk, that there was a knock on the door.

            “Go away,” Thorin shouted. “I’m not at home.”

            “Just open the door, you prat!”

            Thorin did and found Dwalin on his doorstep. “What the hell are you doing here?”

            “Nice to see you too,” Dwalin answered dryly, coming into the flat. “I stopped by to see you at the Onion and the boys said I’d probably find you here.”

            _Great._ “Why aren’t you seeing Ori?” Thorin asked, shutting the door. “Isn’t he back now?”

            “I saw him at lunch,” Dwalin said, shoving his hands in his pocket.

            “Lunch?” Thorin quipped. “I thought you two would still be in bed.”

            “Ha. Ha.” Dwalin came in and sat, so Thorin did the same, flopping onto the couch. “Besides, plenty of time for that.”

            Thorin sunk back into his former position.

            “So ...”

            “So, what?”

            Dwalin turned a smirk in Thorin’s direction. “The mentioned that you’ve, uhm ... met someone?”

            Thorin sighed. “Now it’s my turn to laugh.” Dwalin did laugh out loud and Thorin didn’t explain; no need to.

            “Is this guy worth all this?” Dwalin asked.

            “Are you asking if I would do it all over again if I had the chance?”

            “I am.”

            Thorin thought about that. He felt guilty and miserable, and had hurt his sister and probably upset Bilbo. “Maybe not as badly, but ... yes. I'd do it again.” Because that was the truth; he’d do it all again. Even Bob.

            They sat there for several long minutes in silence before Dwalin slapped Thorin on the knee and stood. “Come on. Let’s go.”

            “Go where?”

            “Dinner. You can’t stay here all night long.”

            “Can’t I?” Thorin put his head back and closed his eyes.

            “No,” Dwalin insisted, slapping Thorin’s knee again. “Remember, you gave up your life so that you wouldn’t stay in all night long.”

            Thorin sighed. He really hated his cousin sometimes. Especially when he was right. “I ask again, why aren't you seeing Ori?”

            “I will be!  _We’re_ meeting him for dinner, and we’re going to be late if you don’t get your arse moving!”

            _Oh, fuck it._ “Fine. Though why you want me there with your boy-toy is beyond me.”

            Dwalin just laughed.

            Half an hour later, they were walking into a very nice posh pub, _The Crazy Eight._

            “Hey, Thorin!” Ori said brightly as Thorin and Dwalin approached him sitting at the bar.

            Thorin leaned down and gave Ori a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome back. How are you?  How was America?” Thorin asked, as Dwalin did the same as Thorin and gave Ori a kiss, only on the mouth.

            “Exhausting.  How are _you_?” Ori asked, taking a sip of something brightly colored.

            The tone in Ori’s voice spoke volumes. “I take it you and Dwalin have already spoken.”

            Ori shrugged. “Something like that.”

            “So you know already.”

            “Only half the story.”

            Thorin was confused. “What’s _that_ mean?”

            “I’m sorry I’m late!”

            Thorin turned as the speaker came from behind him and he stilled.   _No. Fucking. Way!_

“That’s okay,” Ori said, smirking. “Bilbo ... I think you know our guest.”

            Bilbo turned around, realized it was Thorin standing there and his eyes grew huge. “Well, hello!”

            Thorin was stunned. “Hello.”

            “It’s so nice to see you!” Bilbo’s smile was brilliant. “And you have the night off!”

            “Nights off aren’t a problem for him,” Dwalin quipped.

            Thorin couldn’t believe his luck!  Or was it lack of?  Bilbo was so beautiful and charming and all good things and Thorin had to remind himself to breathe, or else _he'd_ end up puking on Bilbo’s shoes!

 

 

 


	3. The Truth Will Out

* * *

 

 

            Bilbo Baggins did not _hate_. He always wanted to be clear on that. Throughout his childhood, his mother would often say, _‘Hate is such a strong word, darling. Do you truly, hate?’_ And even at the tender age of seven, he got it. Hating something or someone was hurtful to one’s own self, it was ugly, it took one down paths that were best not explored.

            However, that's not to say, he didn’t _dislike_ things. For example, he disliked when people used his things without asking; crayons, pens, special cups (leave his Royal Albert teacup alone, thank you. That had been his grandmother’s favorite cup!), etc. He disliked when people tracked mud and dirt all over his house; take your shoes off! He disliked rudeness, meanness, pretentiousness, pettiness, and basically all bad manners; and yes, Lobelia, he’s talking about you!

            But what really chapped his arse was when people saw right through him! His friend Bofur wasn’t bad at it. Nori could do it with surprising ease. His mother was a master at it; he could never get away with anything around her!   But his best friend, Ori? Maybe it was because they were so much alike, but Ori could practically read Bilbo like a fucking book!

            He _hated_ that!

            (Okay, maybe not hate, but he _really_ disliked it. Like, how one would dislike having their upper lip pulled up and over the top of their head!)

            At the same time, if he was, to be honest, and he did value honesty, the fact that Ori knew him so well, was also a comfort. Ori just knew when Bilbo was hurting or hiding, even when Bilbo was doing a splendid job of acting like he _wasn't_ hurting or hiding.      

_You need to get out of that flat!_

_You're hiding from the world._

_You not protecting yourself, you’re cutting yourself off. Like cutting a plant off from the sun, you're slowly wilting._

            What had been most upsetting about Ori’s statements, were how very true they were. Bilbo had slowly come to the realization that there just wasn’t anyone out there for him. It made him ‘heart-heavy’ because he felt isolated, an island in the sea of humanity. So, rather than continue what he’d felt was a futile search, he’d unconsciously decided to leave the world, finding or making up excuses to stay in his flat.  And hide.

_He had letters to write._

_He had chores to do._

_He wanted to try this or that new recipe._

_He needed to re-pot his potted herbs._

_He wanted to finish whatever book he was reading._

_He had an idea for a story._

_He was tired._

            Yes, he was tired. Tired of trying and failing. Tired of hoping and having those hopes dashed. Tired of thinking that he’d be anything other than what was becoming increasingly obvious; alone.  There was no one out there for him and he was going to end up a confirmed old bachelor.

            That was why he let Nori talk him into those dates. And Nori hadn’t needed to try very hard. Bilbo had hoped they’d work out.

            _So much for hope._

            He’d gone back to hiding. After that last disastrous date with Bob the Tube Driver, Bilbo said enough. He didn’t even want to do dinner with Ori and Dwalin. He tried to use the excuse that Ori had just returned from weeks away and they needed their ‘alone time’ and surely didn’t want him tagging along!  But strangely, it had been Dwalin that insisted. After having lunch together, Dwalin literally badgered Bilbo into meeting them later for dinner; every excuse of Bilbo’s was met with a rebuff!

            _I’m tired._ So grab a kip and meet up later.

            _I have things to do at home._ Do them tomorrow.

            _But I have laundry to get done._ Just throw back on what you’re wearing. It’s casual.

            _I have to call Mum!_ What’s that? A phone call.  Fifteen minutes!

            _Don’t you want to be alone?_ We have all night and tomorrow to be alone.

            Bilbo finally gave in just to put an end to the argument. He debated not going and simply canceling. But, Bilbo disliked rudeness and canceling at the last minute without a legitimate excuse was the epitome of rude. That is what did it in the end; he’d dithered back and forth to the point that he had to rush. That was why he was always tardy.

            “I’m sorry I’m late!” Bilbo said as he rushed up to the bar where Ori was sitting.

            “That’s okay.” Ori had a twinkle in his eye.

            Bilbo almost asked why the funny look, but Ori continued speaking.

            “Bilbo ...” Ori said with a sly smile. “I think you know our guest.”

            _I thought I_ was _the guest,_ Bilbo thought but turned to whomever it was that Ori was now gesturing to. His jaw nearly hit the floor! It was the handsome waiter from The Blue Onion! “Well, hello!” Dwalin had mentioned that the waiter was his cousin, but Bilbo didn’t even dream that Dwalin would invite him along.

            “Hello.”

            Thorin looked a little surprised as well. _Maybe he too hadn’t expected a second guest._ “It’s so nice to see you!” It was nice; without Thorin, Bilbo’s dates would have been so much worse! “And you have the night off!” _That’s convenient._

            “Nights off aren’t a problem for him,” Dwalin joked.

            “Oh? Why’s that?” Bilbo was intrigued.

            Thorin blushed. “I, um ... I don’t work there anymore.”

            “What?!” Bilbo was shocked. Thorin was just the greatest! Bilbo had seen how well he took care of this patrons. “Did you quit?”

            Thorin shook his head. “I was only helping out my sister ... the owner ... she, um ... she has the staff under control now, so ...”

            “Well ... still ...” In Bilbo’s opinion, Thorin would be a great asset! He thought so anyway.

            “Why don’t we grab a table?” Dwalin said.

            “Good idea!” Ori agreed, jumping off his stool.

            But Bilbo needed to take care of some business first. “I’m going to run to the loo, real quick.”

            “I’ll go with you!” Ori said, grabbing Bilbo’s arm and steering him away from the other two.

           

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Thorin told himself to relax and remain calm, as he watched Bilbo and Ori walk away. “I’m going to murder you,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Dwalin to hear.

            Dwalin chuckled. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

            “You’re a fucking dick.”

            Dwalin laughed out loud at that. “And you are a hopeless sap!”

            Thorin rolled his eyes. He was a sap.

            “You like him.”

            Thorin didn’t answer; he had other questions. “How the hell do you even know Bilbo?”

            Dwalin continued to smile. “Bilbo works with Nori. Nori set up Bilbo with that first date at The Blue Onion. Nori, as you know, is Ori’s older brother. And Ori is Bilbo’s best friend. I think you can do the math.”

            Thorin shook his head. Just his fucking luck.

            “I saw Bilbo at lunch today with Ori,” Dwalin added. “He told me about his ... recent dating fails, and when I found out about him going to Dis’ place ... and about the ‘so nice’ waiter ... I put two and two together and it added up to one sappy waiter with a major crush.”

            Thorin shot Dwalin a glare but Dwalin didn’t care.

            And Dwalin turned a little serious. “You really do like him, don’t you?”

            Thorin sighed. “Yes. I really do.”

            Dwalin nodded.

            “But,” Thorin said resigned. “I doubt the feeling will be returned.”

            “Why do say that? He seems to like you as well.”

            “For how long though? How long will he like me when he finds out what I’ve done?”

            “You’re going to tell him?”  

            Thorin nodded. “I have to. I can’t keep that secret.”

            Dwalin turned that over before agreeing. “Probably not. Not if you want more than one night, anyway.”

            “You two ready?” Ori asked as he and Bilbo returned.

            “Just waiting for you, love,” Dwalin said with a wink and leading them on towards an empty table.

            Thorin knew he had to confess. He had to tell Bilbo the truth. It was only right. But when? When does one bring something like that up? It wasn’t exactly a subject for light, casual conversation. He couldn’t just blurt it out! And he had no intention of discussing it with Dwalin and Ori sitting there; as embarrassing as it would be for him to tell Bilbo, it would be even more so for Bilbo to hear it, especially with his best friend sitting next to him! No. That was the last thing Thorin wanted to do. He’d wait. He’d wait until after they ate and he’d get Bilbo alone or something and then confess.

            But it got harder and harder to say anything.

            As dinner progressed, Thorin was once again struck by how much he and Bilbo were alike. They had similar tastes in politics and social views, similar tastes in movies and music, similar tastes in books and interests. They both had nephews, or in Bilbo’s case nephew, that they adored and felt close to, almost like their own children; Thorin sure that Fili and Kili would adore young Frodo. They both preferred quiet, simple nights to clubs, pubs or bars, yet both agreed that getting out was good for them. Thorin told of his recent change in outlook while Bilbo, fascinated, stated that he should take a page from Thorin’s book. They laughed at each other’s jokes, even the corny ones – especially the corny ones – and in general, Thorin was having the time of his life. Bilbo expressed the same!

            But Thorin never forgot that he had to profess his guilt to Bilbo.

            Finally, as they were relaxed and Dwalin and Ori had gone off to play pool or something, leaving Thorin alone with Bilbo, Thorin felt it was time.

            “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun,” Bilbo said, giving Thorin a soft smile.

            Yes, Thorin agreed. “Me too.”

            “I’m so glad I came out tonight.”    

            Thorin nodded. “I’m so glad I got to spend time with you.”

            Bilbo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Especially after those awful dates!”

            Bilbo laughed but Thorin couldn’t bring himself to find it so amusing. “Bilbo ...”

            “Yeah?”

            Thorin took a breath. “I have to tell you something.”

            Bilbo looked at Thorin quizzically but said nothing.

            “Those dates you had ...” Thorin drew another breath and released it, before launching into this confession. And Thorin didn’t hold back. He believed that there were explanations and there were excuses and they were not the same thing. Explanations were just that, they gave the reasoning behind an action, while excuses were for justifying the action. Thorin could easily explain what he did, but did he really have excuses? He wouldn’t candy coat what happened, nor would he attempt to cast himself in a better light. He told the truth, he told his reasons and reasonings, but he told it all and he’d let Bilbo decided judgment. And punishment.

            “You’ve put me in a moral dilemma,” Bilbo said quietly.

            There was quite the crowd in the pub but at the moment Thorin felt that it was only they. Surely he had eyes only for Bilbo. “You’re angry. You've got a right to be.”

            Bilbo shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”

            Thorin thought it was straightforward but he’d not correct Bilbo.

            Bilbo took a drink of ale before stating, “Dirk ... the first guy I was there with ... he was a total prick! His arrogance was bad enough, but when he called your nephew a poof ...”

            “I’d reached my limit at that.”

            “And I don’t blame you! If he’d called Frodo that?!” Bilbo shook his head. “I’d have put something far more foul than too much salt in his food, believe you me!”

            Thorin laughed. They both did.

            “As for Nigel ... Mister _‘I’ve-done-it-better-than-anyone-twice-over’_ ... well, despite his manners, even I was unimpressed by the end of it. And to hear that he was making plans for a hook-up while I was in the loo?” Bilbo sighed. “My only peeve about that date was the huge bill.”

            “You didn’t have a bill.”

            “Yes, I did!” Bilbo laughed. “You had me sign it!”

            Thorin shook his head. “I voided it. You apparently haven’t checked your bank statement.”

            Bilbo gasped. “Why’d you do that?”           

            “The credit card ruse was my doing. I refused to let you pay for it.”

            Bilbo smiled. “That was kind of you.”

            “Kindness wasn’t really the motivator. It was just the right thing to do.”

            “I think it was kind.”

            Thorin shrugged. “Then it’s as you wish.”

            Bilbo chuckled at that. “Good. Best not to argue with me.”

            Thorin chuckled himself. “So I’m gathering.”

            “Now ... as for the adulterous, Mister Osborne ...”

            Thorin sneered. “Mother fucker.”

            “I need to actually thank you for that one.”

            “You don’t need to—”

            “I do,” Bilbo insisted. “Had you not done anything, I very well have ... given into his charms.”

            “He was a slick git.”

            “He was saying all the right things.”

            “I noticed.”

            “That night might have ended up being ... intimate, let’s say, had you not intervened.”

            “I could see him manipulating you, using you.” Thorin’s face betrayed his remembered anger and he could feel himself getting hot just thinking about it.

            Bilbo reached out and touched Thorin’s forearm, calming him a bit. “As I said ... I thank you for that.”

            Thorin smiled a bit at that and they both took a drink, letting the conversation cool a bit before Bilbo picked it back up.

            “I have no real issue with the first three,” Bilbo said, quietly. “My problem is with Bob.”

            Thorin cringed a little. “I have no excuse for that. Not even a good explanation.”

            “Why did you do it?”

            “I was jealous,” Thorin said, giving Bilbo an open look; he wasn’t going to lie. “That’s all I can offer you ... I was jealous, pure and simple. I wanted to be in his place. I wanted to be on that date with you. I wanted to be with you, period. I was jealous and I can’t pretend otherwise.”

            “He was a nice guy.”

            Thorin agreed. “He was. And he didn’t deserve what I did.”

            Bilbo nodded. “You’re right.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to.”

            Thorin nodded. “Yeah.”

            Bilbo pulled out his phone and made a few choices on the screen before handing it over to Thorin. “Here ... apologize.”

            Thorin blushed but he took the phone and dialed the phone on the screen; Bob’s number. There was the customary, ‘You don’t know me’ and then the chitchat to explain who he was, but once Bob remembered, Thorin once again retold the story of the date. He sat there, silently, as Bob berated and threatened and accused him, but Thorin took it. It was nothing less than he deserved. Finally, after what seemed a short eternity, but was no more than about fifteen minutes, Thorin cleared his throat and handed Bilbo back his phone.

            “What did he say?” Bilbo asked. Throughout Thorin’s call, Bilbo hadn’t said a word, or asked a question, interjected or make any gesture. He just sat there, watching.

            “After a long string of expletives ... all colorful metaphors describing myself ... he launched into his insult-laced opinion of my character and questioning my parentage as well as my manhood. Then, made threats about suing and/or calling the police to charge me with assault.  After that ... he hung up on me.”

            “Oh dear,” Bilbo said with a small smile.

            Thorin shrugged. “You can’t blame him. I won’t.”

            “Well ...” Bilbo said, storing his phone away. “He won’t do anything.”

            “I don’t know.” Thorin sounded dubious. “He sounded serious.”

            Bilbo shook his head. “He won’t. He’s angry right now and it’s raw, but I know for a fact he won’t do anything of the sort.”

            Thorin wasn’t so sure. “Why do you say that?”   

            “Because.” Bilbo finished the last of his drink. “I’ll let him cool down tonight and then call him in the morning. I promise you though, he won’t follow through with his threats.”

            Thorin chewed on that. What was Bilbo saying? Bob wouldn’t follow through because Bilbo liked Thorin and he would make sure Bob didn’t do anything? Or Bob wouldn’t follow through, because Bilbo would like to offer Bob a second chance and maybe this time it would work out and Thorin could be left in their past as they moved on, together, into the future? Was that what Bilbo was saying?

            “I guess, then,” Thorin said, take a breath and releasing it. “They only question remaining is ... exactly how badly I’ve ruined things between—” Bilbo’s hand on his arm again stopped Thorin.

            “You’ve not ruined anything.” Bilbo gently stroked the hair on Thorin’s arm. “In fact ... I have to say, not many men would have done what you did?”

            “What? Poison their rivals?”

            Bilbo giggled. “No. I meant apologize.”

            Thorin wasn’t sure what to say to that.

            “Few would have admitted that they’d done it in the first place. Of those, some of may have admitted they did it out of jealousy, but most would have only apologized to me.” Bilbo continued to stroke Thorin’s arm. “But very few, if any, would have apologized to Bob, even when presented with a phone to call him.”

            “It was only right.”

            “Maybe, but few would have done it. Which would only go to show how insincere they actually were.” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand in his own. “But you didn’t even flinch.”

            Thorin suddenly felt it hard to swallow.

            “So, no, Thorin, you haven’t ruined anything.” Bilbo gave Thorin a sweet smile. “I think you’ve been punished enough. You can stop punishing yourself now.”

            They both smiled at that.

            “Thank you,” Thorin said.

            Bilbo nodded and gave Thorin’s hand a gentle squeeze.

            “You know,” Thorin said, leaning closer. “We seem to have been abandoned by our friends.” He nodded in Dwalin and Ori’s direction, where they were saddled up to the bar, very close and clearly ignoring the world around them.

            “Clearly,” Bilbo said, dryly but still amused.

            “Would you care to go somewhere else for dessert?”

            Bilbo lit up at that. “I’d love to!”

            “Great.” Thorin leaned a little closer still. “I only live a few minutes from here.”

            Bilbo laughed. “Why Mister Durin ... are you presuming to seduce me?”        

            Thorin smiled wickedly. “Master Baggins, I would never presume such a thing.”

            Bilbo cocked an eyebrow and smiled slyly. “What a shame.”

            Dwalin and Ori didn’t even see Thorin and Bilbo slip out.

 

 

 


	4. A Life Shared

* * *

 

            Dis loved food. Dis loved preparing food. Cooking Food. Serving Food. You name it she loved it! Braised Lamb? Loved it! Sautéed, organic mushrooms with a cream sauce? Loved it! Basmati rice with Saffron and dried cranberries? Loved it! Oven-roasted Chicken with Rosemary, Thyme and stuffed with an apple, walnut dressing and served with Red New potatoes? OMG – LOVED IT!

            Dis. Loved. Food.

            And of course, she loved eating it as well! The textures and nuances of food cooked right. The bouquet of herbs, the subtle hints of butter here and there, the gentle crunch of roasted skins of meat, the tender flesh of fresh fish, the succulent flavors of fruits, and the tangy smoothness of sour cream. She adored them all!

            There was only one thing she didn’t like.

            Eating Crow.

            She hated being in the wrong. And worse, having to admit it.

            But here she was, on a Sunday morning, standing before her big brother’s door, building up her courage to knock. Granted, she didn’t feel she was totally wrong; Thorin wasn’t innocent. Not by a long stretch. But she reluctantly had to admit that she had over-reacted, that she had flown off the handle and she’d blasted him for something that should have been dealt with privately, not out in the open, and certainly not in front of his nephews. The boys had been so upset. And not just her sons but the other waiters as well.

            Not to mention the customers too! She had no idea how much Thorin had come to be viewed as a major asset in the dining rooms by her patrons. Many of them, upon learning that Thorin was no longer there, had been disappointed, to say the least, and more than few had commented that they might not be back. Dis had found herself having to go out a few times to placate disgruntled guests, soothe frayed nerves, answer minute questions that apparently Thorin had been dealing with since taking over the Maître D position. She'd had no idea how invaluable he'd become to her business!

            With one last deep breath and sigh, Dis squared her shoulders and knocked on Thorin’s door.

            The seconds ticked by and no answer.

 _Odd ... it’s early ... he should be here._ Dis knocked again.

            This time there was the sound of hurried feet on a wood floor and a muttered, _‘Fuck!’_ after what sounded like Thorin doing a little stumble or possibly stubbing his toe. Then she heard Thorin’s muffled shout of, “JUST A MINUTE!”

            Dis waited patiently and about twenty seconds later, Thorin’s door flew open revealing her brother with his hair loose about his shoulders and wearing only a pair of long pajama bottoms.

            Thorin’s face morphed into surprise. “Dis?!”

            “I’m sorry to wake you so early.”

            “I wasn’t, um ... sleeping, but—”

            “I want to talk.”

            “Dis ... I’m not—”

            “Don’t say no, off the bat. Please. I just want to chat about yesterday.”

            “Now is not the—”

            “There is no time like the present.”

            “Dis, really ... I’m a little—”

            “I’m sure you’re still more than a little upset; granted.”

            “That’s not quite—”

            “I’m sure you’d use another word. Probably pissed is closer to how you feel.”

            “No. What I mean is—”

            “Thorin, please let’s settle this now.” Dis gently pushed her way into the flat. “I don’t want this hanging over us.”

            “It’s not. It’s fine. It’s just that—”

            “I hurt you, I know.”

            “No. That’s not it. Really, I’m fine, it’s—”

            “It’s not okay.”

            Thorin hung his head and huffed out a sigh. But before Dis could say anything else, there came a soft voice behind her.

            “Does she usually just roll over your sentences like that?”

            Dis spun around and froze. There was a charming young man with sleep-messed, golden curls, hazel-green eyes and a rather amused smile leaning against the bedroom doorframe, wearing ... WEARING NOTHING BUT ONE THORIN’S DRESS SHIRTS!

 

_**Bilbo in Thorin's Shirt ... by**_ Nerdeeart

 

 

            “Oh ... my ...” Dis turned back to Thorin who’s face was now the color of a pale tomato. “I’m so ...”

            "Dis ...” Thorin said slowly, staring at the floor, refusing to meet her gaze. “May I introduce Bilbo Baggins.”

            Dis turned back around, looking wide-eyed at the man in Thorin’s shirt, who smiled and waved at her.

            “Pleasure to met you,” Bilbo said sweetly, looking unabashed and clearly enjoying both Durin siblings’ embarrassment.

            Dis looked at Thorin who said dryly, “As I was trying to _tell you_ ... I’m a little _preoccupied_ at the moment.”

            Dis nodded, feeling her face grow warm. “I can see ... that ... I’m ... so ... unwanted right now.” Dis started backing up for the door. “Why don’t I, um ... call you—”

            “ _I’ll. Call. You_.” Thorin insisted.

            “Right.”

            “Good-bye.”

            Dis’ back hit the door. “I’m going to, um ...”

            “Good- _bye_.”

            Dis reached behind her blindly and turned the handle. “I’m ... so ...”

            “ _Good. Bye. Dis_!”

            Dis had the door open and was out and starting down the stairs before the door had even closed completely. She was so _not_ going to hear the end of this.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Bilbo couldn’t stop giggling.

            “It’s not funny,” Thorin said, even as he chuckled himself.

            “It so is!” Bilbo got out before starting to giggle again. “Oh my, _GOD_! Her face was hilarious!”

            Thorin just shook his head and continued making breakfast; scrambled eggs, potatoes, and sausage with tomatoes. “I’m so pleased you’re pleased.”

            “Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said, getting up from the table and coming up behind Thorin to wrap his arms around Thorin’s waist. “You know it was funny.”

            Thorin smiled. It was funny really. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her at a loss for words in my life.”

            “Has she ever walked in on you before?”

            “No, thank god.” Bilbo disengaged himself from Thorin as the kettle sounded and made himself some tea. The coffee was finished as well, so he poured a cup for Thorin and took both to the table. “However ...” Thorin made up their plates and brought them to the table. “I did walk in on my little brother one time.”

            Bilbo looked surprised. “Your little brother?!”

            Thorin nodded. “He was alone ... except for a container of Vaseline.”

            Bilbo nearly choked. “Holy shit!”

            Thorin nodded, laughing. “I didn’t see much. He was quick enough to cover his, um ... _happy member_ ... with a pillow.”

            “How old was he?!”

            “Well ... I was ... what, seventeen at the time? So ... yeah, he was fifteen.”

            “Poor kid!” But Bilbo giggled anyway. “Did you take the piss out of him?”

            Thorin shook his head. “We shared a room. The roles could easily have been reversed. So I figured I’d play it cool.”

            “Did you say _anything_ to him?”

            Thorin got a cocky smile. “I just looked at him and said, _‘I find petroleum too messy. Try this.’_ then I handed him my tube of Astroglide and left.”

            They both laughed at that.

            “We never talked about it,” Thorin said. “But I noticed he started using the bathroom more and more. Not that I cared either way. We were teenage boys, I think I’d have been more shocked if he _didn’t_ wank.”

            Bilbo giggled to himself. “One of the advantages of being an only child. No one to walk in on you.”

            “Your parents could have.”

            Bilbo grimaced. “Oh god, what a thought!”

            Thorin shrugged. “Certainly wouldn’t have been the first kid caught with his hand in his personal cookie jar by a parent.”

            They both laughed again.

            They continued to chat and talk, soft music playing on in the background, the smell of breakfast hanging in the air mixed with the bittersweet aroma of the coffee. But at some point, Bilbo had stopped talking and Thorin realized that he’d been rambling on, only to stop himself and catch Bilbo sitting there, resting his chin on one hand, smiling at Thorin.

            “What’s wrong?” Thorin asked although Bilbo didn’t look upset.

            “Nothing,” Bilbo replied softly, taking a sip of tea. “I’m just ... happy.”

            Thorin felt himself smile, but still asked, “Are you?”

            Bilbo nodded, sighing. “It’s nice. Being here. With you. Sharing the morning, chatting about ... whatever. I feel ... very content.”

            Thorin found it suddenly hard to swallow but his smile grew and he reached out to cup Bilbo’s face, tracing a thumb over the apple of Bilbo’s cheek. Yes, he too was happy. Thrilled. Overjoyed. Content.

            “I want to see you again,” Bilbo said leaning into Thorin’s hand.

            “Yes,” Thorin said, almost afraid to use his voice. “I want that too. I want ... so much more.”

            “Good,” Bilbo said, leaning forward and giving Thorin a tender kiss and whispering against Thorin’s lips. “Because you’re probably going to get it.”

            And it hit him, like sunshine when one walks out of a dark space, that this was what he’d been missing. All these months, all this searching, all this time, this simple moment, this quiet, soft moment between them, was what he’d been looking for.

            Because he now realized it wasn’t enough just to live one’s life. Like a fine meal or beautiful dessert, it was sharing that life that made it all worthwhile.

 

_**THE MORNING AFTER ... by**_ Nerdeeart

 

_**Fin** _

 

 

 


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